


not safe for work

by theantepenultimateriddle



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, LMAO, This was for a prompt, lovelace has been teasing minkowski all day with little touches and it's driving her batshit bonkers, office au (canon doesn't exist), well you probably don't, you already know what's up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantepenultimateriddle/pseuds/theantepenultimateriddle
Summary: She won’t stop touching you. She’s still not touching you enough.





	not safe for work

She won’t stop  _ touching _ you. She’s still not touching you enough.

Lovelace brushes by again, walking past your desk and trailing one finger over your shoulder blades as she goes, and a tingling feeling spreads out from where she’s touched you, reaching the base of your neck and making you shake in pleasure that you struggle to keep in check. Lovelace glances back and gives you a smile before she walks away with the files she’s presumably taking to Hera, her face bright and mischievous, and you scowl at her in response. Her eyebrow twitches and she turns away to keep walking, but you can’t help your eyes dropping down to her tight jeans and how good she looks in them before she turns the corner and you can’t stare unapologetically at her ass anymore. When she’s gone you groan to yourself and collapse onto your desk, trying to ignore how you can feel your heartbeat in your palms and the soles of your feet and your face and how your body aches for relief. She’s been doing this deliberately all morning, driving you insane with little touches and brushes of the lips, small enough gestures that no one in the office will notice but significant enough to make you crave her, crave her head between your legs making you cry out her name, crave her kiss and her touch and-

You thump the side of your head hard with one of your hands, trying to snap out of it. You  _ cannot _ be having sex fantasies right now. You are Renee Minkowski, you are the office manager for this branch of Goddard Futuristics, you are at work, and you will not be wasting any more of your time thinking about Lovelace’s pants that fit her so well and that you would rip off of her unprotesting body in a heartbeat or what underwear she might be wearing or all of the thousand things you want her to do to you to make you scream. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, then open them and take a deep breath. You try to focus on the papers spread out before you, but it’s almost impossible. Your mind keeps going back to Lovelace.  _ God, that woman. _

Think of the devil; you hear her footsteps rounding the corner, the stomping of her boots heralding her coming back past your desk. You’re worried this time that if she reaches out to touch you again you might just grab her and pull her on top of you right her in the middle of the workspace, fuck their jobs and all of it, but she doesn’t touch you. Instead she walks behind you and leans in, her breath hot on your neck and smelling faintly of the pretzel M&Ms she’s been snacking on. “After work,” she whispers, and your fists clench involuntarily. “My place. Meet me there.”

You exhale a long breath and try to work up enough composure for a response where your voice doesn’t shake, but Lovelace is already gone, walking away back to her own workstation. Instead you just grimace, forcing yourself not to rock on your chair for stimulation.  _ Workplace. I can’t get off in the workplace. I am at work, right now at this moment. I can let Lovelace take my clothes off and fuck me relentlessly for hours tonight, at her place. I can wait until then, can’t I? _

You get off of work at 6, on an ideal day. It is currently-- you check the clock-- just after 1. Internally you’re yelling at the injustice, but externally you just exhale through your nose and try to go back to your paperwork. The next five hours aren’t going to be fun ones.

* * *

Lovelace clocks out at 6, and an hour afterwards you finally finish all of your paperwork. You practically run out of the office to your car, getting in and fumbling the keys into the ignition. Then you drive with a lead foot to Lovelace’s place, praying you won’t get pulled over for speeding because you just need to get there  _ now. _ The urgency is practically running through your veins at this point, and it’s taking all your willpower to stop yourself from parking somewhere deserted and substituting Lovelace’s hands on your skin with your own. But you’ve waited all day, and you can wait just a little bit longer.

She’d continued teasing you for hours before she left, touching the backs of your hands “accidentally” when handing over papers or tucking strands of hair behind your ears or once, reaching out and running her fingers oh-so-lightly across the base of your skull, the dip where it meets your neck. You actually made a noise that time, a tiny squeak you’re sure no one heard but her, and she gave you a wicked smile that promised more to come later. Just the thought of her touch makes your heart beat faster. God damn it all, she’s been driving you crazy.

It’s okay, though. You’ll repay her for that tonight.

You finally pull up at Lovelace’s place, parking in her driveway, and you try to get out with some modicum of dignity and not run up the stairs to barge into her house and order her to take you now. When you’re up to the door of her place you reach up to ring the doorbell, but the door is already opening, revealing Lovelace standing in front of you. She’s still in her work clothes, and she smiles when she sees you. “There you are. What took you so-?”

She doesn’t get to finish the question, because you’re already inside the house, pushing the door shut behind you. You grab her and drag her forwards into a kiss, sloppy and desperate and wild, and she responds by burying her hands in your hair, balling them into fists and pulling. A jolt runs down your spine, making your hips twitch against hers, and you finally let out the noise you’ve been wanting to make all afternoon, moaning into her mouth even as she kisses you. Her lips curl into a satisfied smile against yours. Then Lovelace draws back, moving her mouth from yours to kiss your neck, the skin beneath your jaw. You tip your head back into her hands and enjoy the hot wetness of her mouth as she sucks on your skin, leaving her mark on you. Her name comes from your lips involuntarily. “Lovelace…”

“Do you want me to keep going?” she asks, her breath warm and tickling your neck. She untangles her hands from your hair and moves them down to rest on your waist, fingertips stroking the skin just beneath the hem of your shirt.

You grit your teeth in annoyed desperation and look down at her, trying to control your breath. “After what you’ve been doing to me all day? How could I  _ not?” _

Lovelace grins at you. “Good. That means I’ve succeeded.” Then she draws her hands across the waistband of your pants to the front and undoes the zipper to slide them down.

You gasp as she reaches down the front of your underwear, her fingers stroking along your entrance. You’re so wet that her fingertips practically glide over you, and you grind against her, trying to get her to go faster, but instead of doing that she strokes her finger across your clit. The sensation floods you, drawing a guttural noise from your lips, and you dig your short nails into her shoulder blades, trying to scratch lines in them through her shirt. “Lovelace,” you manage, “for the love of god, take your clothes off.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Why should I, especially when I can let you do it for me?”

Your mind and your senses are overloading, hit from all directions with her scent and her touch and her voice and her, her, her. You’re having a hard time with any sort of patience, and when she says that you make a rough noise in your throat, almost a growl. You grab the hem of her shirt and pull it off over her head, then reach around to the front clasp of her bra and undo it to expose her. She’s exquisite, but you don’t take the time to admire her-- instead you move on to her jeans, fumbling with them to try to get them off. She steps away and undoes them slowly, pulling her pants down and stepping out of them, and then you’re both in your underwear. You reach out to finish the job, but she grabs your hand in midair and uses the movement to step fluidly closer to you. She moves the hand not holding yours down, running it along the hem of your underwear, touching your inner thigh with too-light fingertips, the touch making you grit your teeth. “Damn it, stop teasing already and just  _ go faster!” _

“As you wish,” she murmurs, and pulls your underwear down. You step out of them and your pants and grind onto the heel of her palm for a moment, and then she reaches further and slides two fingers into you. Your knees buckle, but she catches you with her free arm and lowers you to the ground, riding you with her fingers all the way down. She scissors them inside you, and you writhe, your hips lifting off the cool floor and pressing into her. Lovelace begins to move her fingers in and out of your slick entrance slowly, her eyes fixed on you as you start losing control, letting her fingers carry your thoughts away until there’s nothing but sensation and what you’ve wanted from her all day, her using her fingers to stimulate you. You’re at the edge too soon, too soon for right now, and you pray that you can wait a little longer to see what else Lovelace has planned for you after the entire day of delicious torture. But she lowers her mouth down, her tongue making warm contact with your clit, and the pressure and warmth in your stomach spikes, making your eyes roll back. You don’t scream, but you let out a high-pitched mewling noise, louder than you intend.

Words are hard to get out as she follows through the aftershocks, almost impossible, but you manage to get one out: “Captain.” You repeat it again.  _ “Captain.” _

With her mouth pressed against you, she laughs. “That’s me.”

When you’re relaxed and the aftermath has ridden out she sits back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She smiles widely at you, and you can’t help but smile back as you push yourself into sitting up. “That… that was really good.” Then you narrow her eyes at her. “Never do it again. We can’t afford to get fired.” Lovelace’s expression becomes worried, and you shake your head before she can say anything. “You didn’t cross any lines this time, I would have told you. But this can’t happen again.”

Lovelace looks at you for a moment, then nods. “I understand, and I won’t.” She pauses, then reaches out and touches your hand lightly. “It was fun watching you get all worked up, though.”

You roll your eyes and swat her away. “You are such a jerk sometimes.”

Despite the insult Lovelace’s eyes just grow warmer as she looks at you, and even though you can’t imagine what she’s seeing in you that triggers that depth of love you never want her to stop staring at you. When she speaks, her voice is full of amused affection. “Mm, yeah. I can be. But I’m  _ your _ jerk.” She scoots forwards and leans in to kiss you on the forehead. “I’m all yours, Minkowski,” she murmurs against your skin. “I’ll always be your girl.”


End file.
